Love Is You
by SpaceBar2017
Summary: Just a series of drabbles, some larger than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order. (Rating varies by chapter)
1. Chapter 1

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some larger than others based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order._ _Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

PUBLIC DISPLAY OF AFFECTION

At first when Gaby and Illya became an established couple, you would not have been able to tell. Not unless you were Napoleon Solo and you had to spend a lot of time around them. The stolen glances, the quick kisses when they thought he wasn't watching, just being so cute together curled up on the sofa it was almost sickly. These were the things you'd see only behind closed doors.

But as the time went on they became more public with the displays of affection and much to Napoleon's surprise it was down to Illya.

When they were out just doing normal things during their downtime Illya would take hold of Gaby's hand. At first she would look away nonchalantly and quickly find a way to free up her hand by busing herself with something else such as looking through her purse. Napoleon noticed it which means Illya definitely did. But the Russian didn't give up, he didn't get annoyed when Gaby took her hand away he just waited for the next opportunity and clasped it again. Soon enough Gaby became seemingly more comfortable with the hand holding and a few times would even initiate it herself.

Although, Napoleon recalled one time when they had been drinking things were much different. It was Gaby who went all out with the PDAs. One evening in a hotel bar after a few too many drinks she walked straight up to Illya who was at the bar, tugged him down by his collar and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. The cute red head that had been standing next to Illya didn't know where to look. And a couple of drunken men shouted 'get in there' and wolf whistled. When they finally surfaced for air Illya went as red as his skin would let him. Something he would later deny this when Napoleon teased him over it.

But after that incident Illya quickly regained the upper hand. During their casual handholding sessions if they stopped say at pedestrian crossing or to look in a shop window, Illya would try to plant a kiss on her and even if he couldn't get her lips he'd kiss her forehead or her cheek. She'd smile sheepishly and look around. Most of the times Napoleon would pretend not to look but occasionally he'd make them both blush and tell them to 'get a room'.


	2. Chapter 2

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some larger than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order._ _Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

JEALOUSY:

When Illya got jealous there was no hiding it. He would make a scene, things would get broken, upturned, slammed on the nearest surface. And he'd be like a sulky teenager for ages afterwards.

One time whilst undercover at a party their mark's security was getting way too friendly towards Gaby as far as Illya was concerned and when it was finally time for U.N.C.L.E to attack said mark that security found himself on the wrong side of Illya's large fists. But it couldn't always be like that, as much as he wanted to he couldn't lash out at the barman for flirting with Gaby, he couldn't just punch the guy at the ice cream stand who gave her a free double scoop and a load of compliments to go with it. And he definitely couldn't kill his male teammate every time he insisted on walking around accommodation they shared shirtless flashing his annoyingly perfect smile at his woman.

But what really got to him was the fact that Gaby would linger at the bar to talk to the flirtatious barman, or when she giggled playfully at the ice cream vendor and didn't tell him he was being inappropriate or when she blatantly couldn't drag her eyes away from Napoleon Solo's bare chest.

After the breakage of inanimate objects Illya would then give Gaby the silent treatment. Sometimes out of frustration he'd throw childish remarks at her.

"Why don't you go and ask your beloved Napoleon," he'd once retorted when she'd asked for her help getting a lid off a jar.

When Gaby got jealous she wouldn't fly off the handle like Illya. She'd make herself known and literally mark her territory.

She wasn't one for extravagant public displays of affection but when the pretty red head with an amazing figure approached Illya whilst he was ordering drinks at the bar and her hand lingered on his arm for a bit too long, she downed her vodka and walked straight up to him. Instead of answering when he asked 'what drink it was she wanted again' she took ahold of his collar and kissed him. And she made sure she kissed him long enough that the the whole bar knew that he was off limits.

When the female shop assistant was telling him what suit jacket went perfectly with his 'gorgeous blue eyes' or would fit somebody 'so well built', Gaby would pick out a different jacket stubbornly saying it would suit him better even if she knew it wouldn't.

And on the rare occasions he had to be the one to flirt with their target during missions she then took great pleasure in taking said target down.

And then the silent treatment followed. Even if she knew that Illya was probably oblivious to other women's advances or he was just trying to be polite.

It annoyed her.

It annoyed her the same way it annoyed him when the shoe was on the other foot.

But at the end of the night Gaby when they'd both calmed down and had time to think she would reassure him that her flirting meant nothing, it was just a natural reaction. No man could replace him.

He would tell her that he would never cheat on her, he would be a fool for messing up something so special he'd been blessed with.

They would both apologise and say they overreacted.

At the end of every day they only had eyes for each other.


	3. Chapter 3

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some larger than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order._ _Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

NECK RUBS:

Gaby found out before they'd even kissed that Illya really liked neck rubs.

During one particularly tedious mission, their third one as a team, which saw them cooped up in a little flat in Scotland, they found themselves alone one evening. Napoleon was out being 'social' somewhere. Illya was sitting cross legged on the floor with his chessboard laid out in front of him as there was no table for him to reach from the sofa or armchair.

He was grouchy and annoyed. The whole day had been 'boring surveillance' of a government official and they was still as clueless about the thousands of pounds in laundered money as they had been upon starting the mission the day before.

He was no fun, well even less fun than usual when a mission was going well.

After getting bored of being curled up on the sofa drinking cheap wine and watching the Russian focusing on his one man chess game sat forward and ran her hand through his hair.

She'd always wondered what it felt like, like Napoleon's it was always so perfect and stayed in place. Even in the mornings it wasn't that typical 'bed head' awful. It was as if it was glued into position, perhaps he used a lot of hair gel. She wanted to know his secret, if only she could have such perfect hair a lot of time would be saved getting ready. But to her disappointment it just felt like hair. Normal, soft hair. She didn't even feel any product in there.

After taking a few seconds to conclude his hair was nothing out of the ordinary her fingers were still entwined in his locks and he hadn't told her to stop messing around. Maybe it was the wine compelling her todo so but her fingers then daringly traced down to the back of his neck and she gently rubbed and squeezed it.

He murmured something in Russian but she said she didn't understand and he repeated himself in English.

"Very nice."

Quickly the large mans posture relaxed, he slouched back against the sofa and indulged in having the back of his neck rubbed before returning back to his chess game.

Every now and then Gaby would hit the right spot and he would subconsciously lean into her hand. Finally when she decided it was time that she got some sleep and removed her hand Illya tilted his head back and looked up at her. There was a slight hint of disappointment in his eyes, she'd made sure she had completely disheveled his hair and he looked utterly adorable. She admired her handy work with a smile and leaned forward to place a kiss goodnight on his forehead before retreating to her bed.

Since that occasion Gaby found that rubbing the back of his neck became second nature to her. Whether he be when she walked past him sitting at the breakfast table in the morning, when they were together in bed and he wasn't facing her or laying on his stomach, when he started playing chess on the floor more often even if there was a better surface to use.

He always responded positively.

Once Illya had decided to offer Gaby the same neck rubbing treatment she offered him. As she dozed off to sleep he propped himself up on an elbow and enjoyed the pleasurable murmur that escaped her lips. That was until he pulled his hand away and found that her brown curls had got tangled up his giant fingers.

She was cautious of letting him do that again.


	4. Chapter 4

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some longer than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order._ _Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

SLEEPING (or lack of):

They both had nights where they couldn't sleep. Gaby more then Illya which meant when she didn't sleep her wouldn't either.

It would usually start off with her fidgeting in bed then progress to her getting up for a glass of water and back to bed for more tossing and turning. He would pull her onto him, his arms wrapping round her, her head on his chest, legs entwined.

He'd let her decide how much of the cover they needed on them even if it was really hot or really chilly, as long as she was comfortable. He would gently trace random shapes with his fingers on her back.

Her explanation for lack of sleep was usually stress of being a spy in general but her knew it was so much more. It could be hours before she finally fell asleep, they would just lay there in the dark, so quiet sometimes he willed himself to hear what was going on in her head but obviously he couldn't. Perhaps one day she'd tell him but until then he would be there to hold her through the night.

Sometimes Illya spoke in his sleep. If she was awake she'd listen closely but Despite the lessons he was giving her, Gaby struggled to understand the murmured random Russian. She picked up some words he frequently repeated though 'mother', 'father', 'please don't'. Sometimes she'd hear hers or Napoleon's name too.

It all sounded very ominous.

Following his sleep talk there were times he would wake up startled, stirring her from her own slumber in the process if she had already nodded off. Without a word he'd instantly go to the bathroom and she'd hear the taps running. She didn't know what he done in there but when he returned to bed he'd apologise for waking her. Her usual response was to just kiss him.

She questioned him on what he dreamt of. At first he would be reluctant to answer then he would finally explain but usually when he got to the part of how his dream related to his life, and his past he'd stop and point out the time and how they should go back to sleep.

She knew he wasn't pushing her away though or building more walls because he'd hold her close whilst they both settled again. He simply just wasn't ready to talk about whatever was on his subconscious mind. But when or if he ever was she'd be awake and willing to listen.


	5. Chapter 5

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some longer than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order. Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

PREGNANCY:

After nearly five years together Gaby would say she could read Illya pretty damn well 99% of the time. This was one of the 1% of times.

She'd taken him to a park in New York nearby to where they were staying, a nice relaxing walk before they say on the grass, totally unstressed ready to process the news she would give him. And now she had given him the news he just blinked at her, a blank expression upon his features. Not angry, not confused, not happy, just blank. She would have thought news like this would take seconds to process before an opinion was formed.

His jaw clenched and then opened as if he was going to say anything before closing again. This happened another few times before the words finally escaped his lips.

"And you are certain?"

Well that's not the response she was looking for. Negative or positive, at least give her something she could work with. "Yes, two weeks ago when we was U.N.C.L.E headquarters and we had physicals, I specifically asked the doctor for tests as I've had my suspicions."

"You knew before Dubai?" He asked, face still betraying no emotion.

"I didn't want to distract you, we all had to be on top form for that mission." She placed her hand on his knee and squeezed it. "I'm sorry Illya, I really wanted to tell you sooner."

"You put baby in danger."

"Erm..."

"From now on no more danger for you or baby. I have enough worry keeping you and Cowboy safe, I do not need added stress."

Usually she would tell him off saying she was capable of keeping herself safe but it just went straight over her head. Instead she sighed in relief. "So you're down for the whole having baby thing?"

And there it was, they were back in her 99% comfort zone, a massive smile spread across his face, he didn't even bother trying to hold it back. He squeezed her hand atop of his knee.

"Of course," he said it as if it was obvious. "Although I did not mean to impregnate you so early on. Slight inconvenience, but we can work with it."

"And what inconvenience would that be?"

"Marriage was meant to become before pregnancy," again he said this like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Taking each day as a spy as it came they barely spoke about future plans, there was just the mutual understanding that whatever happened in the future they'd be together. She had no idea Illya had already thought of things beyond this.

She pulled him close to kiss him. It was meant to be a quick peck but it turned more passionate, she wouldn't complain though. Everything seemed so perfect right now, if she could just look past the fact their jobs meant risking their lives on a daily basis for their government, they were a proper family.

Illya broke this kiss and kept his forehead pressed to hers. Only then did she feel the giant hand on her stomach.

"Illya..."

"Don't move. I felt baby kick."

"Illya, honey, it's a little bit too early for that to happen."

He moved back, eyebrows knitting together as he nodded confidently. "No, baby is just strong, definitely very Russian. He shall be named Igor after famous Russian footballer..."

"Woah, back it up there daddio," Gaby interrupted. "Number one, our baby may be a girl and number two if it is a boy, we are not calling him Igor."

He looked offended on behalf of his country but took her hand anyway. "Come, let's head back. I want to tell Cowboy the news."

"About that," she started, chuckling nervously when Illya shot her a questioning look. "Solo already knows."

"Cowboy knows about baby before me?"

"He was the one actually that suggested I get the test, apparently he noticed the signs. And then he 'acquired' the results from the doctor."

Illya spent the trip back to the hotel insisting that Napoleon would be a bad influence on baby 'Igor' and giving examples of situations where Napoleon would lead their future child astray. Gaby just rolled her eyes although secretly she thoroughly enjoyed hearing the man speaking of their family to be.


	6. Chapter 6

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some longer than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order._ _Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

TEASING (sexual):

Illya squirmed on the blanket laid out over the sand as Gaby traced circles over his shorts on his thigh, her hand moving dangerously close up his leg.

They were sitting on a beach in California. Napoleon said the of them had time to kill whilst he used his 'skill set' a.k.a seduction to extract some information they needed for their current mission, so for now they got to relax in the sun. He could have found a better way to spend his spare time but as always Gaby got her way, even with what he wore: He was clad a pair of red board shorts that she'd picked out for him and she was wearing an orange and white polka dot high wasted bikini that complimented her body perfectly.

And if her lack of clothing wasn't enough to distract him he now had the added hand on his thigh.

This was far from the relaxation that he'd signed up for right now.

"Stop," he groaned. "Please."

"Stop what?" She smirked.

"Whatever that is you're doing with your hand, there are people around."

Gaby's eyes scanned the beach, apart from a few people in the water and a young couple who'd dozed off sunbathing a good twenty or so meters away, they had picked a pretty secluded area to sit. He knew all to well that Gaby wasn't going to stop.

Her fingers creeped further up his leg until she traced them lightly over his cock. Even over the material it was enough to make him bite his lip and he suppressed a groan but then her curious hand squeezed him through the material and he couldn't stop the sound escaping his mouth.

He flopped back onto the towel and Gaby leaned over him, lifting her sunglasses onto her forehead.

"You okay there my friend?" She propped her head up on her elbow as she lay on her side next to him. Her small hand rubbed his chest.

He turned his head to face her and let his eyes linger up and down her body. She kept in amazing shape, small but strong; there was a small scar on her torso from injury on a mission and one on her upper leg from a cut she got somehow working in a garage. He loved her scars, he'd kiss them every time they made love.

"You're staring."

Illya realised that he was indeed staring and suddenly rolled over, pushing Gaby on her back so it was now him over her.

"I can't help myself," he said, lowering himself to whisper in her ear. "Why do you insist on testing my self control?"

"I'd never do such a thing." She raised her eyebrows and pouted, playing innocent.

He positioned himself in between her legs and lifted her left one over his hip.

"One day I really will put you over my knee," he murmured.

Now it was her squirming under his touch. He pressed his hips down and his now semi hard cock pressed between her legs. She pushed up herself towards him and they both moaned at the friction.

"Do not start what you don't intend to finish Illya."

"You was the one that started this."

He let her push him off of her and he lay on his back again. Gaby sat up looking hot and bothered and it pleased him greatly. If they made it back to the hotel anytime today and they had more time to 'relax' he would show less restraint. But for now he would have to take satisfaction in making her as frustrated as him.

Just then a shadow was cast over his face, Illya tilted his head back and saw Napoleon was standing over him. With skin tight blue swim trunks it was a less than flattering sight from where the Russian was, he instantly jumped up.

"This is indecent Cowboy."

Napoleon just laughed, "what's indecent Peril, is you two making out like two horny teenagers where everyone can see."

"That's rich coming from you Solo," said Gaby from her cross legged position. She didn't even look up at the two men as she rubbed sunscreen into her arms.

Illya really was concerned people had been watching them, such behaviour really shouldn't be public but sometimes she just made it so hard for him. Literally. But the only people close enough to have been able to tell what was going on were still only a sleeping couple and people splashing in the sea.

"Anyway team, enough playtime. I've just got us three guest passes into the members only beach club. I also found out Harold has a 'business' lunch scheduled there soon. If this is one of his contacts this whole mission could be smooth sailing for us. Then we'll have a few days to relax and you kids can continue getting down in the sand."

Before Illya could remark Napoleon was walking away, towel slung over his shoulder like he was some sort of swimsuit model. Illya rolled his eyes.

"Hey Peril!" Napoleon called as he looked back.

"What now? We're coming!"

"Is that a gun in your trunks or are just happy to see me?"

Gaby's sniggers filled Illya's ears and his cheeks went the colour of his swim shorts.

He could tell it was going to be a long and frustrating afternoon.


	7. Chapter 7

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some longer than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order._ _Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

PROPOSAL:

She didn't mean to hesitate but she did. It's not like she didn't know it was coming, she'd had her suspicions when he recommended they take a vacation in Rome, where their first mission had been. And all the whispered conversations with Napoleon beforehand that stopped when she entered the room plus Napoleon had randomly wished him 'good luck' when seeing them off at the airport.

But now it was real, it was actually happening. He was down on one knee by the fountain and 135 steps built by 'Sergei the Russian architect' asking her to marry him. And that one word she'd practised saying over and over again in her head didn't want to budge from her voice box.

For what seemed like ages he just waited there patiently, his blue eyes staring up at her and a anxious smile across his face. Finally he stood up and just as he was about to say something she said 'yes' in the first language her brain could process which happened to be German.

A massive grin broke out on his face and a few spectators in the street cheered them on. He didn't say anything as he took the ring out the small velvet box, grasping her hand to slide it on her finger, his own hand was shaking, not out of angry temperament though.

She admired the ring, it was either platinum or white gold and had a larger square diamond flanked by two smaller ones on it. It was beautiful.

He was beautiful, this man who she just agreed to spend the rest of her life with.

"Strange, Cowboy said you'd cry."

"I knew Napoleon knew!"

Illya shrugged. "He knew about baby first only fitting he knew about this too. But if you knew Napoleon knew, that means you did also."

He sat on the side of the fountain and pulled her onto his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands rested on her stomach, something he'd started doing since he had learnt she was pregnant 6 and a half months ago.

"I had my suspicions, I am a spy after all."

"You know Gaby, this is the third engagement ring I've bought you. You should be very grateful," He joked.

"Has this one got a tracker?"

"No tracker. Not yet; haven't found one small enough."

She nudged him playfully and then kissed him.

"Who would've thought all them years ago we'd be back here again Illya? Like this, as a real couple."

She remembered everything about their first night in Rome as a fake couple. Including the exact suit he was wearing; thinking about how good he looked in all black and how annoyingly handsome he was for someone she really disliked. His hair had grown out a bit longer than usual, he'd stopped cutting it as regularly when Waverly allowed him to have time off so he could be there for her during the pregnancy. He was wearing a plain black cable knit sweater and a pair of blue Levi jeans after Gaby had convinced him they'd be more comfortable than the smart trousers he always wore.

It was safe to say she just disliked him a lot less than she did back then, but he was still annoyingly handsome though

Her annoyingly handsome fiancé.

"Perhaps we name baby Romeo," Illya said thoughtfully his hand rubbing her stomach, "after our city."

"No darling," Gaby sighed. He suggested at least three names to her on a daily basis, if she had her way he would not be the one to name their child.

"You want to know something Gaby?"

"Go on."

"I knew from our first night in Rome I would propose to you here one day. Call it Russian instinct."

Gaby raised her eyebrow wondering if he actually believed half the stuff he came out with sometimes. It was sweet though.

"I love you Mr Kuryakin."

"And I love you Mrs Kuryakin."

"Mrs Teller-Kuryakin," she corrected.

"Excuse me?"

"I told you once when we were engaged, I'm my own woman."

Illya's brow furrowed, she knew exactly what he was going to say so got her best Russian accent ready.

"This is not the Russian way!" They said in unison.

Then they stared each other down.

Then they laughed.

Then they kissed.

Rome was definitely _their_ city.


	8. Chapter 8

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some longer than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order._ _Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

DANCING AND NEW YEARS EVE:

(I've had quite a few requests for dancing then one lovely person suggested dancing on New Year's Eve, so I combined the two and this happened!)

Gaby loved to dance that was evident from their first night in Rome. Anywhere that there was music playing she'd sway her hips, bounce her knee up down if sitting, tap her fingers and toes. There was no stopping her and it was no surprise she loved dancing and music so much. She had trained at the Berlin Ballet School after all.

She often tried to get Illya to dance with her, thankfully with less slapping than the first time she tried, but he always refused. Especially if it was in public; he knew he'd look ridiculous.

If he was around, Cowboy would indulge with her wanting to dance though, Illya didn't actually mind if meant himself getting out of it. He'd shoot daggers out of his eyes at The Cowboy though if he got to close to Gaby.

There was one time, which begun a streak of many, that his resolve was broken though. It was December 31st 1963. The team had worked over the Christmas period much to Gaby's disdain so Waverley had allowed them to take New Year's week off. Napoleon had gone back to his home in New York and Illya had decided against going to Russia so he could be with Gaby. As far as he knew she had no family to spend the break with and all her friends were back in East Berlin, not a wise place for her to go back too. The British government must have felt some sort of guilt over this and set her up with a lovely apartment in an affluent part of West Berlin there was even a local garage who allowed her tinker with the cars.

She was as passionate over mechanics as she was with dancing. So much in fact she was spending New Year's Eve at the garage under a car working away. Illya was happy with this plan as the alternative was the neighbour's party plus he liked watching Gaby work, her oil stained overalls, the rag tying her hair up; he liked it. He liked that his small woman could hold her own in at a predominantly male job, as well as being a spy that was.

His role that evening was to pass her the tools she impressively asked for in Russian and remind her of the time.

He instructed her when it was exactly three minutes to midnight as she'd asked. She emerged from under the car and smiled as she brushed past him to turn up the volume on the little portable radio on the side. She tuned it until reaching whatever radio station she was looking for. The presenter was English and he was excitedly talking about the New Year.

By the time Illya had popped the bottle of champagne they'd bought along and poured two glasses the countdown had begun. They stood out in the street and they could hear the excitement coming from nearby houses and pubs.

When the countdown reached one she wished him a happy new year in Russian so he responded in German. He only poured a small amount of bubbly so they downed it and then he pulled her into a kiss.

Fireworks and cheering blaring in the background mixed with the tune of Auld Lang Syne coming from the radio. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around him, he settled her onto the nearest surface which happened to be the car bonnet and they continued kissing like this was the last New Years kiss they'd ever get. After what seemed like forever they broke apart. Gabby flopped back onto the bonnet and laughed. She wasn't laughing at him or at anything in particular she was just laughing because she was happy.

Then he suddenly asked her to dance because at that moment he knew he'd do anything to keep that happy look on her face.

She looked at him skeptically but knew better than to question him and jumped up yanking him by the hand. She retuned the radio until she found a station that was playing a song that sounded a lot like the one she'd put on in the hotel in Rome that one time. But to be fair most modern music all sounded the the same to him.

She took the lead, manoeuvring his hands to the rhythm, lifting up his arms so she could twirl herself, pulling him close and making him sway with her.

She got two and half songs of dancing out of him, he wouldn't admit it but it was actually kind of fun; being able to cut loose. He even tried out a couple of simple steps without her lead that he'd witnessed Cowboy do several times. He doubted he looked anywhere near as slick as his fellow teammate but Gaby still cheered him on which made him smile.

Their dancing came to and end when she twirled a little too enthusiastically and lost her footing, he quickly caught her though. She laughed into his chest and he laughed too, it was almost as if they didn't have a care in the world. He lived for action but allowed himself to revel in the feeling for now.

She commented that he wasn't too bad at the whole dancing thing and that it was one of the best spent New Years she'd celebrated.

It was one of Illya's too. He wished that they'd have many more happy New Years celebrations together and he's gladly 'suffer' many more nights of random dancing just to make her smile.


	9. Chapter 9

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some longer than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order. Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

KISSING

Every time he kissed her she got butterflies in her stomach. Even if it was at times she deemed inappropriate, she secretly enjoyed it. If they were standing up his large hands would usually start by cupping her cheeks before moving to the small of her neck and back.

Their first few kisses she initiated but once past that awkward stage he seemed to take any chance he could get to kiss her. Even just quick chaste kisses or ones pressed to her forehead, cheek, neck and in private any other part of her body that was exposed to him.

She liked the fact that he would even kiss her without expecting it to turn into anything sexual. They could be curled up on the couch and just make out like two teenagers satisfied with making it to first base. He would usually press his forehead against hers when they broke apart a small smile upon his lips just long enough for her to see sometimes even longer as if he was lost in the moment.

She enjoyed leaning what reactions she could get out of him from kissing. She knew he would always pout if she broke the kiss earlier than he anticipated and he would growl lightly if she gently bit his bottom lip.

Every time Illya kissed her it was as if he had the honour of kissing the only girl in the world and if she had her way that's how it would always be.


	10. Chapter 10

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some longer than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order. Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

SAYING 'I LOVE YOU' FOR THE FIRST TIME

When Gaby woke up she instantly saw Illya's smug face looking down at her.

She didn't know what time it was or why it was so horrendously light but she needed more sleep. With a groan she tried to pull the covers over her head but Illya's hands stopped her.

"Rise and shine," he said as smugly as he looked.

"It's way too early for this," she protested, again trying and failing to pull the duvet over her. She covered her eyes with her hand peering between her fingers giving them a moment to adjust to the light before sitting up a bit. The sudden movement jarred her head and knew too well her old acquaintance 'the hangover' was there to visit.

Illya was lying on top of the covers only clad in a pair of jogging bottoms but he smelt and looked freshly showered and the copy of War and Peace he was currently reading during downtime was open and downturned on the bedside table. She wondered how long he'd been awake.

"It's almost midday," he said. "I would have let you sleep longer, but now that you're awake..." He moved towards her and she closed her eyes ready for his lips to meet hers but instead they landed on her forehead and he leant over her to grab something off the table on her side.

"Take," he instructed, handing her a glass of water and aspirin. She wanted to comment how cute it was that he'd prepared her favourite morning after cure but just thanked him instead and took the tablet.

"Napoleon sure does know how to throw a party," she commented. Last night had been their partner's birthday, not that he ever needed a reason to celebrate. What started as a few quiet drinks between friends in the hotel bar turned out to be a mass drinking session, with what seemed like every other hotel guest, in the penthouse suite he'd manage to wrangle for himself. Gaby didn't remember much after she had begun making her own cocktails.

"At least Cowboy can hold his liquor unlike some," Illya quipped earning him a scowl.

"I wasn't even that drunk last night," she lied weakly.

"So you remember everything that happened?"

"Yes."

His smug look returned, "That's good, I was worried you wouldn't not remember important conversation."

"Conversation?"

"Yes, the one we had when we got back. I was very surprised at what you told me."

"Was it very important?" Gaby raised an eyebrow, he was clearly teasing her but she still took the bait.

"I like to think so."

She pushed the covers off her and thanked God the aspirin was already beginning to kick in as she got up and straddled his lap. His eyes didn't hide the fact they looked her body up and down as she was stripped down to just her underwear. She could tell his hands were itching to reach out and touch her but with self control he disappointingly folded his arms behind his head.

"So you meant it?" He asked, apparently determined to finish the conversation they were just having.

"Remind me what I said, perhaps my head is a little bit blurry."

"You was in bed, remember?"

"Yeah..."

"And I was getting changed whilst you were clearly checking me out. Telling me what good shape I'm in and how I'm built like Russian God."

"Strangely I definitely don't remember that part."

"You told me what good boyfriend I am and how I meet your needs in every way. I had to strongly agree with all of this by the way."

"I bet you did mister," Gaby said with a chuckle as she rolled her eyes.

"And then I got into bed and out of the blue your exact words were 'by the way Kuryakin, I think I love you.' I was going to question what you meant by 'think' but you fell asleep..."

"Woah." Gaby's eyes widened. "I said what now?" She didn't give him time to repeat it. "I know I had a lot to drink but... Just... No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Yes," Gaby murmured to herself. He now looked deadly serious, the look he only gave when, well, he was being deadly serious.

She closed her eyes and tried to think back to last night but she couldn't remember a thing after being in the penthouse suite. How embarrassing if she'd said that to Illya, she did really like him; really, really like him. But love, that was a different game all together although she wasn't saying she didn't love him she just had yet to think it through.

"So you don't love me?" Asked Illya. He just blinked at her and done that annoying thing where he managed to wipe all emotion from his face so she didn't know if he was offended or just curious.

"Er... Erm..." She didn't know how to reply, a rare occasion, and she could feel the heat rising to her face.

Suddenly Illya's blank expression cracked, his mouth spread out into a huge grin and he chuckled. "There was no decoration of love, I am just messing with you Gaby. Not about Russian God part though."

"I hate you Kuryakin," Gaby growled, picking up her pillow and hitting him with it. "I'm going to have a shower."

"Hurry up," Illya said suggestively as she got up.

She done as he said and showered quickly, despite being annoying this morning the image of him laying there in just those jogging bottoms was hot enough for her to forgive him for now. But once finished in the bathroom she was disappointed to see that although Illya was still laying on the bed waiting for her, he was now fully dressed in slacks and shirt.

"Cowboy phoned down, Waverly is in his room. Wants to see us straight away." He explained not even looking up from his book.

"Mmm hmm..." Gaby replied with a sigh as she started pulling out clothes from her suitcase to get dressed.

"Gaby."

"Yes Illya?" Gaby spun round and was faced by his chest. She hadn't even heard him get off the bed, she was always amazed how someone so huge could be so quiet and light footed; spy or not.

"It's a shame," he begun saying, fingers gently stroking her cheek, "because if you did tell me you love me I would say that I love you too."

Before she could process his words he was kissing her.

"But you never said it so oh well," he said breaking away. "I'll let Waverly know you'll be up soon."

With that he left her standing there.

"Well Kuryakin, that was smooth as fuck," Gaby thought out loud.

Then she realised what exactly he'd just said her.

She stood there letting it sink in for a moment. His words repeating in her _head, 'I would say I love you too...'_

Half dressed with a coy smile she flopped back onto the bed. Illya Kuryakin just told her that he loved her.

The big bad Russian spy had fallen in love with her. His 'little East German chop shop girl' as he would call her. And now that she actually thought about it she was pretty sure she loved him back.

And she realised that the confident bastard probably already knew she did when he decided to tease her this morning.

If she didn't love him so much, she'd hate him.


	11. Chapter 11

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some longer than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order. Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

 _This was requested by fallgrace! I hope you enjoy! It's the thoughts going through Illya's head as he turns on Gaby's tracker. I plan to soon write a companion piece on what Gaby's thinking!_

GOING SOFT

Gaby's sudden entrance into Napoleon's suite completely caught Illya off guard. Perhaps it was because Napoleon had just been referring to her when he asked Illya if he was going soft.

The notion that he was going soft was ludicrous. They had no space for such a burden in the KGB. It was just that Gaby was an innocent person in all this, he may be a trained weapon but he was also human which many people seemed to forget and he would feel guilt if anything happened to her under his charge.

"Soft," he muttered to himself. Ridiculous.

So why was he now standing there in an awkward attempt to act casual like some love sick teenager who'd just been caught talking about his crush.

Now she was standing on the table. The tracker wasn't switched on or something. She was pulling up her dress to reveal the tracker secured around her thigh. Illya caught his breath.

Not soft. Just a normal reaction to a beautiful woman showing her legs.

So why was Napoleon so calm and collected and since when did he start thinking Gaby was beautiful. Sure she wasn't ugly, quite the opposite really, it wasn't as if he didn't know how appreciate the fairer sex. But beautiful was something his mind usually only came to conclusion too after giving it some thought.

Like the thought of that beautiful smile he was occasionally treated to. Not the fake one she wore when she was acting as his fake fiancée. The one she gave when they were playfully teasing each other, when she heard a song she liked, when a certain car drove by and caught her eye even when she looked at the new dresses that she had been bought for the mission the ones he knew she would was bee be able to afford otherwise. All genuine smiles, all of which were beautiful.

Napoleon was saying something directed at him now. He realised he was staring and snapped out of it. With a smug look across his stupid smug face Cowboy suggested Illya sort out Gaby's tracker.

Illya politely declined nearly tripping over his words but Napoleon insisted and left for the balcony. Why would he need to do that? Was it to give them space because It was just switching on the tracker that was going to happen, not an intimate love scene. No space required.

Now Gaby was looking at him expectantly. He approached her and rubbed his ever freezing hands together in a feeble attempt to warm them up. She still gasped when he touched her though. Pointing out that he 'was still cold'.

Still cold, he thought as he apologised to her, was this some subtle allusion to his personality? Perhaps that was the message he was giving out, he couldn't help it. It was pretty much automatic.

Or perhaps she was just talking about his cold hands. That made more sense.

Illya mentally scolded himself for thinking too much into things. He couldn't help it. Gaby's opinion of him was important to him. He didn't have time to dwell on that current realisation though, he had things to attend to. Like this tracker around her leg.

She was short but her legs seemed to go on forever as he glided his hands up her soft skin. It was smooth and unmarked, the skin of someone that shouldn't be caught up in this spy game.

It was, well beautiful. This seemed to now be the only word his brain could form when describing her. He could easily get lost just exploring her body and not even for sexual gratification; just because she was beautiful and he wanted to appreciate her.

With a lot of will power he didn't look though, he didn't want her to think he was getting off on this. He didn't have that privilege and if he was anything believe it or not, he was a gentleman. He kept his focus straight ahead.

"What are you doing down there?" She finally spoke.

His brain told him to apologise but his mouth had other ideas. "Trying not to get lost."

The words came pouring out his mouth. They should've stayed in his head where they sounded a lot less creepy. Gaby didn't scold him though although he mentally kicked himself.

He quickly switched the tracker on and daringly let his hands feel her leg one more time. He noted that she was trembling and she told him that she was scared.

"It's going to be okay," he said. Now they were looking directly at each other.

"How do you know?"

"I'll be..." She was staring right at him, he almost forgot what he was saying. And was he imagining things or was the distance between them getting smaller. "I'll be close by." He managed to finish.

His heart went into overtime in his chest. She was so close to him, this beautiful woman. Perhaps he was going soft but he didn't care, not if that allowed him the privilege to kiss her. He shut his eyes, they were so close.

Would her lips be as soft as her skin? He wondered. Well he was about to find out.

"All turned on now?"

Illya and Gaby jumped away from each other. There was no grin look plastered across Napoleon's face but Illya could just hear him thinking something smug.

Stupid Cowboy.

He informed them it was time to leave and when Gaby was asked if she was ready much to Illya's concern she still looked nervous despite his reassurances.

When Napoleon went to get his jacket and whatever else from the bedroom Illya grabbed one of Gaby's hands without giving himself time to think about it.

"I promise, it will be okay Gaby." He squeezed her hand and she rewarded him with one of those beautiful and genuine albeit small smiles. She then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"You going soft on us Illya?" She asked teasingly.

Illya smiled to himself as Gaby stepped off the table, still holding his hand.

"Da," he murmured to himself.


	12. Chapter 12

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some longer than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order. Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

ANGER

Illya was ashamed knowing that Gaby was scared of him. She pretended like it didn't bother her but she couldn't hide when she flinched, when her eyes avoided contact with his, when she stuck closer to Cowboy during missions.

Too many times she had to try and restrain him from laying into someone too badly. He didn't see what the problem was though, Cowboy was a trained killer just like him. But then again Cowboy always done as little as possible to take out the enemy; if possible it was efficient, clean and never excessive with the violence. Illya just didn't know how the American resisted punching the face in of some of these scumbags. Also, he guessed Cowboy didn't have a habit of smashing things as an outlet for his rage either. Illya would never hurt Gaby but even though he tried not to flip out with her around, she had occasionally been there when he'd angrily overturned the furniture of the apartment they were currently based at.

He wasn't sure if she knew he'd never hurt her, that saddened him. He had no one to blame but himself. He knew he was a psychopath as the KGB had so kindly put it. 'Volatile personality disorder' he'd been diagnosed with from a young age. No one had really tried to him help though and the Russian government just used it to their advantage making him the weapon that he is.

It wasn't until he was cleaning up the remnants of a smashed table lamp from the evening before, whilst a visibly nervous Gaby watched him from the breakfast table.

She didn't look at him as he brushed past her to dispose of the glass fragments in the bin in fact she hadn't spoken a word to him this morning. She just kept focus on her coffee.

He took the seat opposite her and spoke the words that were too familiar on his lips for his liking.

"Gaby, I'm sorry for last night."

"It's okay," she shrugged. "It's just a lamp."

"No, it's not okay. I would never hurt you."

"I know," she said but Illya wasn't convinced she believed him.

"I know I am a psycho but I want you to be safe around me." He nervously bit the inside of his lip. Exactly a month and 3 days since they'd been thrown together as a team. A month of near kisses, stolen glances, fake relationships and sharing rooms with separate beds. He knew if Gaby didn't feel safe with him they'd be stuck in this purgatory hell forever and he would never forgive himself.

She finally looked at him, her eyes softening very slightly. "I don't think you're a psycho."

"You're scared of me."

"No I'm not." She paused to sip her coffee. "It's just sometimes it's like something snaps in you and you go overboard. It's horrible to watch. Like the two guards you and Solo took out at the palace in Istanbul. Did yours really deserved to become a punching bag?"

She clearly wasn't looking for an answer but he tried to justify himself anyway, "He was enemy and he insulted my country."

"For all we know he was just an innocent man doing his job without a clue what was happening in the Palace, you could have easily just knocked him out. You can't just go ten rounds with everyone that hurts your feelings."

"Like I said psychopath. I am sorry."

"Volatile personality disorder doesn't make you a psychopath."

"How do you know?"

"Solo got hold of everyone's personal files the first day we visited headquarters."

Illya growled, his guard instantly went up. He knew his file contained things he didn't want Gaby to know about just yet. His childhood, family life, the first time he killed someone when he was just a teenager, the first time someone ever took advantage of him when he was an even younger teenager.

"Don't worry," she said like she could read his mind. "Napoleon only let me see that and about your rowing championship."

There was silence between them until Illya muttered his apologies again and he was about to get up when Gaby stopped him.

"What's it like?"

"What is what like?" He knew what she was asking but still wanted to hear it from her.

"When you get angry?"

Illya had to contemplate his answer. Such a feeling was hard to put into words and he didn't want to lie just to satisfy Gaby. If he could explain then perhaps she would pity him just a bit.

"It's like something snaps In my head and I can't put it back together quick enough. And even though my brain is telling me to fix it my muscles don't respond to this and they just lash out until brain gets it under control."

"So you really do just lose it?"

"Yes. Whether it's wrong for me to do so or acceptable."

"Have you ever seen someone? Like a councillor?"

"No help," said Illya. His mother sent him for therapy when he was a young man and after a couple of sessions one in which he had to be restrained they quickly dismissed him as a lost cause. That's when the government had stepped in.

Gaby frowned and then done something he was expecting, she reached across and pried his fingers out of the clench fist he wasn't even aware he had made. Her small hand wrapped around his fingers and squeezed them.

"We'll find you help okay Illya."

He was doubtful that this was possible but he was willing to try anything that would make Gaby's feel safe around him. Plus, for his own sake, he didn't like being a ticking time bomb of anger.

He caught a sigh before it left his mouth when Gaby released his hand but he had it replaced with a smile which was just as comforting in his books.

"I would've never pegged you as a rower." She said playfully. She then got up and took her coffee cup to the sink behind him.

"Gaby," he said without looking round.

"Yeah Illya?"

"Thank you."

There was silence from her as she ran the tap. He could hear the squeak of the cup being cleaned. Soon the running water stopped and he could feel her presence directly behind him.

A tender hand lay on his shoulder.

He resisted the urge to grab it but there was that comforting squeeze again.

He suddenly realised he felt calmer than he had in a long while.


	13. Chapter 13

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some longer than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order. Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

PRE WEDDING JITTERS - ILLYA

"I love her Cowboy," murmured Illya. He paced around the small room several times before sitting down. He steepled his hands underneath his chin and his rapped his fingers together. Napoleon knew him well enough to know this wasn't a sign of him getting angry in fact it was a sign of nerves.

"Well it would be a bit awkward right now if you didn't," replied Napoleon. He leaned against the wall bemused as he watched his friend.

"And she loves me."

"Again, awkward if she didn't."

"And we're getting married."

"Yup." Napoleon looked at his watch. "Anytime now so try and keep it together until after the ceremony otherwise the bride is going to kill me."

"First baby and now this."

Napoleon raised an eyebrow and smirked. "If you start crying on me Peril I might just have to bail right now."

Illya looked up at him, eyebrows knitted together. "That is not the Russian way," he growled. Illya scowled at Napoleon before a small smile forced its way onto his face and they both chuckled.

"You can thank me for all of this," said Napoleon. "From the moment you and Gaby looked at each other in Rome, before you very rudely shot at me in the car, I just knew I had to dedicate my being to making this day happen."

"If you say so Cowboy."

They chuckled again and then Napoleon straightened up. "I am very happy for you and Gaby. You deserve it. Cute kid, very nice house that U.N.C.L.E. has set you up with. All you need to do is erect a white picket fence and you're living the dream."

"You sound almost jealous Cowboy," the Russian pointed out teasingly.

"I'm not jealous," replied Napoleon sheepishly. "Maybe a tad envious, I must admit. But I'm happy for you. I've seen the way Gaby looks at you and I've seen the way you look at her, you're going to have many great years ahead."

Napoleon feared he was beginning to sound uncharacteristically soppy. But he figured if there was any day to do it, it would be today. He'd witnessed first hand Gaby and Illya's relationship over the years from that awkward tip toeing around each other before their first kiss, to suggesting to Gaby she might want to take a pregnancy test. And yes, he was very envious of the couple seemingly made for each other but first and foremost as a dear friend he was also extremely happy for them.

"You'll find the right girl someday too," said Illya offering him a small but sincere smile.

"Maybe my friend."

"Maybe? Don't be too picky Cowboy, you are getting on a bit you know."

"Don't remind me," Napoleon sighed. "Nearly 41." He looked at his watch again. "Five minutes until the bride arrives. We should go out there."

Illya stood up done up the two buttons on the white tuxedo jacket he was wearing. His hands were shaking. He then moved to the red bow tie that complimented his red waistcoat.

Napoleon watched with frustration as the man's nervous hands messed up the tie several times before stepping in.

"Let me," he said, pushing Illya's hands out the way. Illya gave him a look of what Napoleon thought was fake annoyance but allowed the American to do up his tie.

"There we go." Napoleon stood back and looked Illya up and down. "You don't scrub up half bad Peril. And like you said, Gaby loves you and you love her. No need to be so nervous."

"Thank you, Napoleon." Illya stuck out his hand.

Napoleon smiled, his name sounded like a foreign word leaving Illya's mouth. Granted it was seldom used anyway by anyone apart from his mother as most people addressed him by his surname, he and Illya only called each other by nicknames apart from rare occasions like this. Occasions that reminded them without having to say it that they were best friends.

Napoleon took Illya's hand then surprised the taller man by pulling him into a hug.

"Go get the girl Illya."

Illya hugged Napoleon back with one arm and held onto it exactly 3 seconds longer than Napoleon imagined he would.

"Yes sir." Illya grinned as they broke their embrace. He now wore a look of confidence and without a second thought he strode past Napoleon and out the room.

As he straightened up his own tuxedo Napoleon thought back to the times when he was teasing the soon to be married couple to 'get a room'. Mr Waverly once joked back then if Napoleon was destined to be best man at their wedding one day and Napoleon scoffed at the idea insisting that it would never last.

This was one of them rare times Napoleon Solo was damn glad he had been proven wrong.


	14. Chapter 14

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some longer than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order. Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

SEX/MAKING LOVE

For Illya making love was a big thing. He couldn't be like Cowboy, have a string of meaningless lovers. For him it was about establishing a mental connection as well as physical. Like the first time he and Gaby finally got intimate he asked if she was sure that it's what she wanted. He had to double check, he knew their whole relationship would change after that and even though he wouldn't regret it he would be devastated if she did.

Not only that, he knew the type of men that would hang around his mother, his father's 'friends' after his father had been sent to the golag. His mother was worth more than them cheap sordid flings, every woman was worth more than that, so he'd be dammed if he ever treated one in a manner that suggested differently when it came to sex. He swore to himself he would never be one of those men.

Despite his tough secret agent persona and intimidating presence he was almost a different person in the bedroom. He was surprisingly gentle and sometimes unsure of himself.

He liked to undress Gaby slowly and take the time to appreciate her, he'd smother her body in kisses especially the scars. He would look her in the eyes and, usually in Russian, tell her how beautiful she was.

He enjoyed using his tongue to push her over the edge, feeling her hands claw at his hair as she fought giving in to the pending pleasure and the wanton way she would say his name. He was conscious about using his fingers though, his hands were bigger and usually colder than that of an average male, he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable.

He was even more conscious when he was inside her, he'd always wait for some sort of signal that she was comfortable. And he was aware of how strong he was, he was scared of hurting her so tried to let her set the pace despite how hard that was when he was on top and she was begging him to go harder or faster. His self restraint was always worth it in the end during that final moment of pleasure, then when it was over he'd smile sheepishly and find a similar look on her own features and he knowing she didn't regret it.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Gaby really enjoyed sex and there were times Gaby really enjoyed being in control during sex. She couldn't fault Illya in the bedroom; he was really good at what he done and before him she'd never found a man so happy to put her own needs first, it was nice. But sometimes he was just too gentle. Hwould not hesitate to whisper dirty things in her ear in public, all the things he'd do to her when they were alone but when it came down to it he held back.

She knew he was scared of hurting her but she felt completely safe around him and confident he wouldn't hurt her, unfortunately he wasn't confident in himself.

That's why if she wanted to break routine she would have to take initiative and do it herself. She'd never forget the first time she decided to take matters into her own hands it started when her hand dangerously creeped up his thigh when he was driving.

He asked her to stop, of course she didn't. He warned her she'd be in 'trouble' when they got back but knew it was an empty threat, she was still waiting for the day he would put her over his knee. So she carried on and much to her delight he ended up pulling over in conveniently secluded area and they somehow ended up naked all but Illya's socks in the backseat of the vehicle. She straddled him and instead of whispering his usual sweet compliments during sex he had a delightfully filthy mouth switching between English, Russian and occasional German.

Gaby then decided that whilst she very much appreciated Illya's slow and attentive approach to sex that sometimes she'd just have to take the lead.


	15. Chapter 15

**LOVE IS YOU**

 _Just a series of drabbles, some longer than others, based on the Gallya relationship and prompts from my friends. They're not in any type of chronological order. Please do review! And don't hesitate to say if there's any prompts you'd like me to cover :)_

CRYING

Gaby could count on one hand the amount of times she had seen Illya cry and even then it wasn't inconsolable crying it was just welling up and a few tears quickly wiped away. But on 7th July 1968 that changed.

7th July 1968 their son was born. It should have been a happy day if not for the fact he should've been born a month later than he had been.

The labor was short and Gaby was too worried about the baby to comprehend the pain. Illya had been panicking and was eventually kicked out the delivery room at request of the obstetrician after shouting at him angrily in Russian.

When the baby was born she wasn't even allowed to hold him, he had undeveloped lungs; respiratory distress syndrome and had been rushed away. He was now in a neonatal unit hooked up to a ventilator.

Despite the news she fell asleep quickly afterwards, the exhaustion took its toll on her small body. When she awoke an hour and half's nap seemed like eternity. She almost forgot where she was but the clinical setting quickly had everything rushing back to her.

She was about to jump out of bed but then she noticed the blonde sitting by her bedside. Elbows on his knees, hands steepled under his chin as he just stared at her.

"Illya, how is he?"

"Not good," he replied. His jaw clenched, fingers tapping against each other. "Stable at the moment though. The doctor said he will tell us if there is any change. Touch and go he said."

She got out of bed and held back the tears because she knew she wouldn't stop. She threw on a gown and pulled Illya up by the hand.

"You should rest."

"But I'd rather go and see our boy, I want to hold him." She forced a smile and Illya kissed her forehead before leading the way.

Turning down a few corridors he seemed to know where he was going. They stopped once they reached a room with the sign on the double glass doors reading 'Neonatal'

Looking through there were five incubators lining each side of the room. Two of them had couples peering into them. Gaby couldn't quite see how many of the incubators had babies in but Illya pointed to one on the far side of the room where a nurse in purple scrubs was standing.

"There he is."

Gaby was about to go inside when the nurse caught sight and headed over to them.

"You must be mum," the nurse said with a smile.

"Yeah." Gaby smiled politely back.

"Well now the team is together you've no excuse not to come in now and say hello, dad." This time the nurse smiled up at Illya but it wasn't returned.

Gaby was about to question Illya on what the nurse meant but he dropped her hand and just walked off.

"Sorry," the nurse said.

"No it's not your fault he's like that sometimes."

The nurse offered her a sympathetic look, "It can't be easy for either of you. We're all doing our best."

"Thank you," Gaby said, "I know you are. I should go after him."

His strides were long and fast, she nearly lost him. She managed to catch him going through a set of fire exit doors but luckily she didn't have to go far after that. He'd got up one short flight of stairs and then stopped.

His forehead was pressed against the wall and his fists clenched by his side. Gaby tenderly lay her hand on his arm.

"Don't you want to come and say hello to him with me?"

He didn't shrug her off, slowly he turned round and she realised tears were streaming from his eyes before he covered his face with his forearm.

For a moment she didn't know what to do or how to console, but she didn't have to ponder for long. His large frame engulfed her and she quickly wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm sorry, Gaby," his voice cracked in her ear as he sobbed. It was enough to make her cry but there was no way she could right now. One of them had to keep it together.

"Illya this is not your fault, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"What if baby doesn't make it, Gaby?"

"Don't think like that, look at his parents. His a fighter, of course he's going to make it." She tried to sound sure of this but she was still trying to convince herself. Illya pulled away from her not even trying to hide the fact he was still crying. He kept rubbing his red eyes on his sleeve until she dug a tissue from her pocket.

"I think you should come and see him," she said softly. Reaching up to dab the tears away from his face. He leaned into her touch looking about as exhausted as she felt.

"There's nothing I can do to help him," Illya's voice was full of self loathing. She could tell he was trying not to start crying again. "There is nothing I can do. I'm useless."

"No you're not. Like I said, he's going to get better and when he does he's going to need his father. And right now we both need you."

They stared at each other until Illya squeezed his eyes shut and sighed.

"Okay."

Gaby smiled and they walked hand in hand back to the neonatal unit. There was now a different nurse in there talking to one of the other couples.

Before Illya had a chance to second guess himself, Gaby lead them inside. She didn't look in any of the other incubators, making a beeline to the one she knew held their son.

Gaby gasped when she first laid eyes on him properly. He had a thin layer of fair hair; his eyes were still shut but she imagined them to be as blue as his fathers. Pads with wires attached covered most of his small torso, he was clad in just a nappy. He looked so calm, new to the world without a care. But she knew his breathing was being aided by the tubes coming out of his nose and mouth hooked up to the machine behind. She wondered if he felt any pain or if his brain processed this as normal.

He was so tiny and fragile but she already loved every inch of him. His little hand clenched and relaxed and she had the urge to reach through the holes in the side of the incubator and touch his fingers. She stopped herself though thinking there was probably a protocol for disinfecting her hands first.

She then became aware of Illya's presence looming over her.

"Baby is very small. Takes after you."

Gaby smiled up at him and he smiled back. "Everything is tiny compared to you." Although their son was somewhat smaller than most newborns.

"My boy," Illya said proudly. "Small but if anything like his mother then you're right, I should not doubt that he is strong enough to survive this."

Illya's newly found confidence was relief to her ears she would never admit it but as cliché as it was he was her rock. She counted on him and in this situation she wasn't sure how long she could hold it together for the both of them.

Illya's gazed was fixed on the baby in front of them. It was as if he'd never seen anything so amazing before. He pulled something out the back pocket of his trousers. At first it just looked like grey scrunched up wool but quickly realised it was a babies hat in the design of a flat cap, the type of headwear Illya loved so much.

"In case baby's head gets cold."

"Next to this little munchkin this is probably the cutest thing I've seen in a long while," said Gaby. She took the little hat and studied it there was no label and the vision of Illya knitting crossed her mind. A ludicrous thought.

"Shall we ask the if we can touch him and if perhaps you can put the hat on him?"

"I would like that."

Gaby was about to approach the nurse when Illya pulled her back.

"Baby needs a name."

"As much as I love all the wonderful suggestions you've been giving me on a daily..."

"Kai."

"Kai?"

"In Japanese it can mean recovery. Swahili; loveable and Burmese it means strong."

Gaby's eyebrows raised. It never ceased to amaze her just how many languages Illya knew.

"Kai Felix Kuryakin," said Gaby making Illya smile. Felix, the name of his father, was one choice he hadn't suggested to her. Perhaps out of embarrassment, but she knew how much it would mean to him, no matter what his father had done back in Russia it was clear he meant a lot to him.

His eyes filled up with tears again but he didn't start crying, he just inhaled deeply and smiled down at his son.

Gaby managed a smile too, she just knew that somehow everything was going to be okay.


End file.
